THE GREAT AGE: Book I -- Rousing of the Fates
by The Herald
Summary: A mysterious twilight is approaching -- either a sunrise or a sunset lies behind the horizon. Five Jedi and one child carry the fate of the Galaxy on their shoulders. They embark upon separate quests across the Galaxy while the War of the Force rages on.
1. PROLOGUE

STAR WARS  
THE GREAT AGE  
Book I: Rousing of the Fates  
  
  
by The Herald  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
  
The frothing current of the Alderaanian Sea violently mingled with the clawing shore. Far from above, a distant light seeped through the darkness, finding humble abode within the warm eyes of an ancient Jedi Master, who overlooked the constant collision below. The horizon had melted, the night was past it's prime, and all the while, a tender chill trickled through the furs on the Master's bushy face.  
  
It was an invariable routine; standing here, atop this jagged cliff, night after night. The old Master would find this grassy spot and gaze endlessly into the beautiful spectacle of the tide; the clash of seemingly invisible colors. It was a glorious ritual; watching the calm waters caress the rocky shore, cleansing the outskirts of the City of the Jedi, and relinquishing the anxieties brewing within the Master's troubled mind.  
  
Far away, Delaya watched over it's sister, Alderaan, as it slept, shedding a remote light that glistened off the tranquil waves, illuminating the City, whose lampposts had flickered out long before.  
  
Master Bendu Beren leaned heavily upon his sturdy staff as he turned towards the great City. With a delicate stroke, he dried the soothing mist of the sea from his face and immersed himself into another marvel: even the ominous atmosphere of the Alderaanian night could not deny the sheer beauty of the City of the Jedi. The grand temple rose higher than the great hills surrounding it. It's magnificent dome, mimicking the stars, reflected shadows of the comforting cobblestone paths and crevices that bustled early every morning.  
  
However, the stars were losing their luster. Soon they would not be able to protect the City any longer, and the darkness and the wind would sweep through Alderaan's jewel, consuming it and leaving it to ruin. A mysterious twilight was approaching.  
  
This tremor in the Force did not only linger around the City. It was also beating deep within the confines of Master Beren himself. There, it took the form of a creeping sickness: a strange disease that was finally taking its toll on an aged, decaying body.  
  
A splitting cough murdered the silence.  
  
Plunging his staff into the soft ground ahead, Master Beren began the long hobble towards his quarters. Once he would reach the comely cobblestone walkways of the City, he would grapple up the wide, winding marble staircases of the temple, all the way up towards the highest tower, where his simple domain lay. It was a lengthy and grueling trek -- one that brought great fatigue, but with it, great sustenance.   
  
  
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"Master, your bactae," hummed a young half-Twi'lek dressed in long white robes. She extended an elegant silver tray with a tall glass, full of soothing liquid, placed upon it.  
  
"Thank you, my dear," murmured Master Beren, as he gradually settled atop his bed. He gently supped the foamy drink and felt a calming warmth rush over him. "Thank you, my dear," he repeated, "but too much kindness may spoil me."  
  
The half-Twi'lek delicately shook her head. "No, Master. It is the least I can do for you now." She paused. "So long have you fathered me and so soon you will leave me. I have yet to show you the gratitude you deserve."  
  
A wide smile sifted through Master Beren's fur. It was hidden but not unnoticeable. "Ze'Losh, you are a daughter. More than one occasion have you brought me great happiness. It isn't something you need worry about. I have great faith in you, my dear, and forsee many good things in your future."  
  
She released a tender sigh and continued to sweep through the Master's quarters, preparing the simple room for slumber. All the while, Master Beren set his glass aside and began to settle into his covers, slowly removing his earthy cloak.  
  
"Really Master, you must stop hiking out like this. It is tiring you. Especially at night. The cold, not to mention the dangers lurching about these days," she trailed off.  
  
Master Beren waved off her worries. "It keeps me strong." He grinned. "When my time comes, I will become one. There is no stopping that, my child. It is the way of the Force."  
  
Ze'Losh descended onto a pillow beside the fireplace and began to feed the flame. The winds howled and the curtains violently tattered away.  
  
  
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"Master, I'm completing the valley bend. I'll be regrouping with you in a moment."  
  
Master Garqhuin Padawan rubbed the side of his lean, bearded jaw before responding to his apprentice, on the other side of the communications link. "Acknowledged." Already in deep thought, he brought the comm device closer to his mouth. "Be wary, boy. I feel it may happen again."  
  
"I don't sense anything."  
  
"That's just it, boy. You won't," snapped Padawan, as he continued his circle towards the hill that stood between the Master and his apprentice.  
  
"But how can you sense it, Master?"  
  
"I can't." Padawan paused briefly to tighten his dark cloak under his long, disheveled beard. "But it seems so close. A feeling."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't understand."  
  
"It's not easy to understand," Padawan retorted. "Even I cannot comprehend it."  
  
Master Padawan trudged up the hill until he reached the adjoining cliff. He was completely enveloped in darkness there. The City was out of sight and underneath him the sea maddened. Wrapping his cloak even tighter, the Master squinted through the freezing mist towards a shape emerging from the east. Glaring harder into the darkness, Padawan managed to discern a cape dancing in the wind.  
  
These physical senses had been failing him lately -- it was an unavoidable attribute of old age. However, Padawan easily overlooked these supposed obstacles. He was a member of the Council: one of the most learned of the Jedi, regarded second in ranking only to the great Master Bendu Beren. A strong knowledge of the Light Side of the Force was all that mattered to Master Padawan, and it was a gift that strengthened with age.  
  
Immersed in the cold, Padawan gave into the Force, extracting a familiar warmth emanating from the east and then -- a quiver.  
  
He barked his apprentice's name as a black smear thrashed in the air, from behind, and slashed through the young boy.  
  
Padawan leaped forward in a concentrated push. His cloak held the air under him as he glided to his feet nearly fifteen yards towards the attacker. With a spin, the Master ignited his saber and struck at the shadow. Blue and red clashed.  
  
  
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Master Bendu Beren plunged out of his bed in pain. He let out an excruciating cry that shook through his quarters and faded into the halls. The brown fur on his face was dank with perspiration.   
  
"Master!" burst Ze'Losh. She returned to the room and hurried to her Master's side, propping him up. The fireplace flickered with embers -- the wind had blown it out. Ze'Losh searched her Master's face. "What's the matter?"  
  
He began to step out of the sheets. "It's happened again. Call an extra sentry -- hurry!" his voice wrenched coarse.  
  
"I'm already here, Master Beren." Stepping from the open doorway, a tall Trandoshan emerged carrying a communications device. "Our northern post spotted sabers. Twelve groupings have been dispatched to the perimeter."  
  
Master Beren glanced up at the Trandoshan. "All around? This could be a diversion."  
  
The Trandoshan nodded. "All around, yes, Master."  
  
  
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Padawan hacked frantically as the shadow swept left and right repeatedly forcing him backwards. His attacker was an acrobatic warrior and the Master's greatest strategy would be to keep the battle on the ground. Absorbing each constant blow, the old Master began to focus on the Force. His concentration wavered as every heave he tried to reflect magnified in sheer fury.   
  
The shadow bludgeoned Padawan in a frenzy, wrinkling him nearly to claustrophobia. The Jedi began to falter as he was propelled closer to the cliff. Suddenly, the barrage of thrusts halted as the shadow leapt over Padawan's head.  
  
The Master's concentration straightened as the storm subsided.   
  
In a split-second, the dark figure struck the ground behind Padawan and unleashed it's saber in an unmoving, brisk strike. The Master sunk into the mud, barely eluding the red haze, and spun his leg to knock the shadow's feet from under.  
  
The cloudy attacker fell backwards into the air. Rapidly, it balanced and altered it's falter into a backwards flip.  
  
The scant moment allowed Master Padawan to feel the Force around him and in a single swath of the hand, he sent a massive deluge of dust and sand plunging straight, forwards into the face of the shadow.  
  
With a deafening howl, the murderous villain was flung off the side of the cliff, plunging far off into the rugged rocks of the scabrous sea.  
  
  
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"He was stronger. Stronger than the other ones," stated Padawan, his voice unwavering.  
  
Master Bendu Beren was slowly pacing back and forth, taking in Padawan's narration of the events that had unfolded.  
  
"That was our third Jedi in seven nights, Master."  
  
Beren paused to glance up at Padawan. "And never have they dared come this close." Beren's whiskers furrowed. "I do not like this. Their scouts are becoming more aggressive with every push."  
  
"This was too close to the City," commented Padawan. "We must act this time. We cannot wait much longer."  
  
Padawan's words hung heavy in the air as the two great Jedi exchanged a powerful stare.  
  
Padawan was the first to look away. Although Garqhuin Padawan was now Master of the Jedi Council, he rarely acted without the consent of his own Master.  
  
Master Bendu Beren had served as leader of the Jedi for many millennia. He was founder of the Order and the City. It was under his mighty gaze that the Jedi came to mold a legendary and peaceful civilization that spread across Alderaan and Chandrila. Though he had trained hundreds of Jedi in his lifetime, none were more disciplined than Garqhuin Padawan.  
  
It was for this reason the Council chose to appoint Padawan as their leader after Master Beren resigned his post. Padawan was not a man of emotion nor a man who took many risks. These traits were what prompted them to promote Padawan and it allowed for an easy progression after such a long and constant reign.  
  
Master Beren gradually drooped onto his staff. "I know, Garqhuin, I know." He shook his head to himself. "Conflict is what I dread. I dread it dearly." The ancient Master tried desperately to compose himself. "I don't know. I do not know," he repeated. "Perhaps there is still hope for them to see the fault in their ways."  
  
Padawan sighed. "No, Master. You must give up that hopeless dream. You have tried so long already. They will not change."  
  
"I have tried, yes. But I find myself asking, has it been enough?"  
  
"Conflict is inevitable. Sometimes it is necessary."  
  
"No!" exclaimed Beren, his voice shook the room. "If you believe that, you have lost already." He strained to examine his old apprentice's visage. "Never is conflict necessary."  
  
Padawan turned to face the window. He felt the slight chill of the air stroke his face. "I understand. But what now? What should we do?"  
  
Beren sighed as he gently lowered his body to the ground. Ze'Losh swiftly came to his side and sat him next to the warm fireplace.   
  
"It is not my place to make decisions for the Order anymore," the Master replied. He waved at Ze'Losh to leave him.  
  
Padawan nodded. "I will call counsel for tomorrow morning then, in the courtyard. Master Starkiller is returning. The entire Jedi Council will be present."  
  
Master Beren smiled. "Good. Now sleep. Tomorrow will be an important day. A day our fates are to be decided." 


	2. THE COUNCIL

I. THE COUNCIL  
  
  
The sun shot streams of light across the horizon as the ground tumbled uncontrollably. Ze'Losh shaded her eyes. The sun's reflection off the sleek Jedi starship only seemed to magnify the light.  
  
As the landing gear creaked into place the dust began to settle. Soon, the landing ramp lowered and out stepped two Jedi, shoulder to shoulder. Ze'Losh hurried to greet them.  
  
"Master Kane, Master Deak." She slightly bowed.  
  
They returned the greeting. The taller and older one spoke first. "It's nice to see you again, m'lady."  
  
"And both of you as well."  
  
The younger Jedi grinned. "Oh come on, Ze'Losh. Enough with the formalities already. I've moped around enough already with this stiff." He gestured towards his older brother beside him. "I'm lucky I wasn't apprenticed to Kane all my life."  
  
Kane glanced over at his younger brother. "You're lucky you made it past the trials."  
  
"Ha-Ha-Hah," fumbled Deak, "hilarious."  
  
Ze'Losh stepped in. "Now come on you two. The Council is assembling soon in the courtyard. You don't want to keep them waiting Master Kane."  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
"Not again," slipped in Deak.  
  
Ze'Losh smiled at the two. "So, shall we be going?"  
  
Deak stepped in and curled his arm around Ze'Losh's and immediately began marching towards the Temple  
  
Kane paused. "Wait a moment." Suddenly he popped back into the spacecraft and returned with the pilot. As they descended Ze'Losh noticed a fidgeting bundle in Kane's arms.  
  
She melted and sprung out of Deak's embrace. Hurrying back, she unwrapped the Jedi fabrics caressing the child. "My goodness," she screamed, overcome with emotion. "She's beautiful!" She began methodically rearranging the bundle, comforting the child. "And so cute." She pinched at the newborn's cheeks. "I've never seen this species before, what is she?"  
  
Kane lowered his hood, allowing the warmth to soak into his dark brown hair. "He is of some rare species, obviously. The computer onboard couldn't come up with anything. We'll be looking into it later."  
  
"He?" grinned Ze'Losh. "Doesn't look much like a boy to me. Are you certain?"  
  
"Oh, we're certain alright." Kane smiled. "Let's get going."  
  
The pilot returned tending to the ship as the three began their journey towards the Temple. Ze'Losh lagged behind, as she became engrossed in caring for the child while the two Starkiller brothers weaved through the tall buildings and navigated the cobblestone maze.   
  
Kane kept his gaze forward all the while ignoring his younger brother's glare.  
  
  
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The courtyard was only a small portion of the vast Temple grounds. It was a modest size and located in an open area, in the middle of the Jedi Temple. Encircled by the soaring walls of the Temple, the garden was the pit of the City, and inside throve a variety of life.  
  
The moist ground was caressed by a winding path of smooth red bricks. They always crackled with a homely greeting as they were walked upon. The walls of the surrounding Temple were immersed in lush flora and ivy, and the lustrous earth bubbled with a carpet of soft green moss. And far from high above, the mammoth willows filtered the scorch of the sun, as their long curving branches trickled down and encompassed the entire enclosure.  
  
Wide stone pillars and old carvings rumbled from the ground and settled throughout. The land itself fluttered up and down and side to side as humble silky hills stroked the grounds. And all around a clear and gentle stream murmured through the mounds.  
  
Master Garqhuin Padawan stood in the middle of the courtyard, atop the center hill, and all around him, in the only clearing, sat on the floor, the Jedi Council.  
  
"Welcome, my friends," the tired Jedi began. "I am sorry we could not convene during more happier times. But, as is with all things, in the end, it is all the Will of the Force."  
  
An agreeing grumble and a simmer of nods wove through the circle.  
  
The Master continued. "Most of you know the reasons why this counsel was called for. But for those of you members of the Council who may not have all the details, rest assured, I will go over the sequence of events before we begin."  
  
"Two months ago our planet, Chandrila, fell to the Twelve and the Sith. Ever since that accursed day, we have been on full alert -- throughout Alderaan. All seemed quiet until seven nights ago, the night we lost our first brother."  
  
In the shadow of a willow sat Master Bendu Beren, far in a corner. He held in his arms the infant child, gently rocking it to sleep. His apprentice, Ze'Losh sat near him -- one eye on the baby, one on the Council -- half the time trying to whisper the story Kane and Deak had told her during their journey home.  
  
Padawan paced on the small stone dais that emerged from the earth, the air dancing on his whiskers. He paused a moment to glance up at the grand Jedi walls through the wild willow leaves, a thousand eyes watching him down through the countless Temple windows.  
  
"Four nights ago," he paused to breathe a heavy sigh, "we lost a Jedi sister."  
  
A grave reaction swept the Council.  
  
"And then, just this last night, I lost my apprentice." He slightly tugged at the loose skin under his chin, deep in thought.   
  
One of the Council members stood up glaring at Master Padawan, his heavy eyebrows bristled. "And two Jedi would have been alive today if this Council had taken proper action after the first night! The Sith are now on Chandrila! We must kill them all!"  
  
Master Jimil's views did not differ greatly than Padawan's own. Garqhuin had long been advocating a more aggressive stance and had secretly argued for that belief with Master Beren who simply wouldn't have it. Padawan realized, though, that as leader of the Order he had an obligation to take the longer, more thoughtful path -- not the hasty and hot-headed one.  
  
"Fool!" shot Kane Starkiller, as he rose to challenge the other Jedi. "You no not of what you speak. What of Chandrila then? What of the thousands that died there? Their deaths were not due to any inaction. They were caught by surprise -- they died defending themselves -- defending the Jedi! They were murdered! Murdered by the Sith -- and the Twelve! The Twelve!"   
  
Kane flung an arm out in despair and turned to face the rest of the Council. "Blasphemous fools like Jimil were what the gave rise to the Twelve and the Sith!" He spun again and bore into Master Jimil. "Will you be that Thirteenth? The Thirteenth Lost Jedi?"  
  
Padawan stood still, solid as the rock underneath his feet. He extended one unwavering arm and motioned for quiet. "Silence, Master Starkiller! And control yourself, Master Jimil," he simply stated. "Now is not the time for debate."  
  
The two returned to their positions as Master Padawan gathered his thoughts. "The Council must act as one. All of you must understand this." He halted as he took one deep breath of air.   
  
"The War is coming to an end and even in the darkest of times a new day will always dawn. We must make our decision today. Our defense of Chandrila was a failure and soon the Sith will bring the last battle here to Alderaan. It is the responsibility of this Council to plan our next move."  
  
Padawan motioned towards a young boy watching from a low window. "Elegi, papers." The boy disappeared and returned in a hurried moment. He flung himself over the window sill and stretched his tiny arm towards the Master Padawan. Padawan snatched the mess of papers and dismissed the young student.  
  
"Now," he began, facing the Council once more, "we have been receiving messages from our own scouts -- the remnants of our fellow Jedi in Chandrila. As you can very well imagine, a few hundred Sith could not destroy thousands of Jedi alone. They had help. Our scouts, who witnessed the Battle of Chandrila, mentioned several hundred groups of mercenaries."  
  
He lifted the stack of papers and ran a finger through them. "These," he motioned, "contain the names of each of those groups -- and those were only the groups that carried banners and could be identified." Padawan dropped the stack to the floor, littering the dais with paper. "Our Jedi brothers and sisters were overwhelmed!"  
  
Hushed grumbles and mumbles spread from within the Council's circle to the spectators around the center hilltop to the over-lookers watching from the high windows. Soon a loud commotion broke out.  
  
"Order!" barked Padawan. "Order, now!" The Temple continued to moan, oblivious to their leader's pleas. "Silence!" he screamed, a final time. The riot subsided.  
  
"It is time now. Those who watch these proceedings, be hushed and show respect to the Order and its Council. All our fates are to be reckoned today. The courtyard is open."  
  
There was quiet among the Council as they looked about at one another. Master Jimil decided to begin the conversation, as he rose. "Honorable Jedi of the Council, my opinions are already known. I believe, it is in the best interests of the Order, to strike the Sith. We know where they are -- we should take them out while we have the chance."  
  
"And you all know my opinion," answered Kane. "There are alternatives to fighting. Vengeance is the easy way out."  
  
Jimil grinned. "And what do you suggest we do Master Jedi?"  
  
Kane turned his head away from the wrinkly alien. "I only suggest that this Council act with the Jedi Creed in mind. Our priorities must hold peace and patience above anger," he paused before turning to Jimil again, "and fear."  
  
Master Jimil waved a hand at Kane. "Please spare us with this unneeded emotion. Anger and fear, patience and peace -- none of this has anything to do with what we are facing. Vengeance has nothing to do with this either. We are simply taking back what is ours and driving these invaders from our home."  
  
Kane scoffed. "Call it whatever you want. You can blind yourself, this Council, this Order -- coat your philosophy with all kinds of sweets and ale -- but never, never will you coax me."  
  
A third Master rose from the Council's circle. "I am sorry Master Starkiller but I must agree with the Master Jimil here. I do not believe we are violating any rule. This strike on Chandrila would be an act of defense."  
  
"An act of defense?" cried Kane. "What of the Jedi still on Chandrila -- what of the ones captured in their camps -- what of the villages of hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians besieged by the Sith -- what of them?"  
  
The other Master bit his lower lip, deep in thought, as Kane trailed off. "Well Master Starkiller, what of them?"  
  
Kane sighed. "Don't you see? You send your armies of Jedi, you send your swarms of fighters, you send your hordes of bombers -- and in the end you bludgeon that holy ground -- our Chandrila!"  
  
The Master shook his head. "I hardly see your point, Master Starkiller. With every war comes innocent casualties. There is no way around that -- it is an inevitability. It is the price we must pay to uphold peace and freedom in the Galaxy."  
  
"And continue to sugarcoat your blasphemy! This is absurd!" shot Kane, tossing his head from side to side. "I can't believe what I'm hearing -- the inevitable death of hundreds of thousands of innocents -- to me that sounds like a reason not to lash out in violence. How can any of you go along with this?"  
  
Master Padawan finally extended another arm of silence. Atop his stone pedestal, he signaled the three standing Jedi to rejoin the circle. Cooley, he tightened the cloak over his shoulders. "I have heard enough from both sides. What is it then that the Council wishes?"  
  
Slowly, Master Padawan descended from the dais and walked to each Council member, perusing through the grassy circle. In turn, each member quietly sounded their thoughts as their leader passed by.  
  
"It is settled then." Master Padawan smiled as he returned to his pedestal. "The Council has decided. Due to majority vote, we will defend Chandrila and take back what is ours from the Sith."  
  
A hearty commotion broke out and a joyous pride filled the air. A salty breeze danced on the wind as Kane gently let his head fall into the warm sunlight, disappointed and disgusted.  
  
As the Council stood and began to disperse, Padawan walked towards Kane and gently patted his head. "I am sorry, Kane, but the Council has spoken."  
  
Kane looked up to face the older man. "Your opinion was no different than Jimil and the others, was it?"  
  
"No, it wasn't. But you are newly appointed on the Council, Kane. You still have much to learn."  
  
Kane steadily shook his head and remained where he was.  
  
"Preposterous!" yelled a hoarse and familiar voice. Master Bendu Beren trudged up the hill and marched to the center of the Council, which was now half seated and half standing. "This is outrageous!" He faced the Council, sickened at what he had witnessed. "This Council will reevaluate it's course of action immediately!"  
  
Jimil, who had been giggling cheerfully off in a corner, stiffened and returned to the center hill. "Master Beren, great sir, with all due respect," he halted rather abruptly, as Master Beren's two hardened eyes confronted him, "I -- uh, with all due respect, sir -- the Council has spoken. You are not it's leader anymore."  
  
Master Beren's eyes flickered. "Oh, forgive me!" he wailed sarcastically. "I had no idea the founder of the Order could be treated with such dis-rus-pect!" He bit long and hard.  
  
"No, I just mean, Master -- you are old and sick. You may not see things the way most people do these days."  
  
Beren furrowed his brows and stared into Jimil. "What exactly are you implying, good sir?"  
  
Jimil stammered. "Uh, no Master, no Master Beren -- I did not mean it that way!" He hurried to try and save himself.   
  
"Master Padawan," Beren called. "The Council will reassemble immediately."  
  
"But, sir, we," Padawan froze as the two gazes locked. The familiar glare bore into Padawan and he nodded. "Yes, of course, Master Beren."  
  
Padawan began waving his arms, signaling the Council to reconvene. He remained upon the pedestal but Master Beren now paced around it, on the outside.  
  
As the Council returned, Beren paused to lean deeply onto his gray wooden staff. He let out a soft groan as he settled into place. "Two years!" he began. "Two years have passed since I left the Council and already you have been corrupted." He struck the ground with his staff.  
  
One by one, Master Beren examined each Jedi in the circle. His round brown eyes bore deep into their souls, searching them for truth and piety. He did not speak with words but let each stare convey his sadness and pain to each member of the Council. The waving willows lost their sputter and the babbling brook napped as a loving golden aura emerged within the garden.  
  
A gust of wind swept past Master Beren, tossing the scattered papers into the air. As they fluttered, Beren called one to his outstretched paw. He squinted at it, trying to make out the markings.  
  
"And this? Master Padawan, what are these figures?"  
  
Padawan moved forward to look over his Master's shoulder. "Those are the estimated numbers of warriors belonging to each group. Just estimates, of course."  
  
Master Beren shook his head. "Estimates or not -- that is irrelevant now. Look at this!" he waved the paper in the air. "The large majority, over half of these warriors, come from one single bounty hunting guild."  
  
He returned the paper to Padawan and stepped onto the dais again. It had been two years since he last stood upon that stone platform. "Always, my friends, there are other means of solving problems without violence. It is only a matter of finding a solution -- a true and noble solution. Sometimes it is harder to find one, sometimes it is easier -- but there is always another way."   
  
Beren descended from the podium.  
  
Padawan remained, scanning the paper. "The Angels of Iego?" he whispered to himself. "Master, Master Beren!" he hurried to catch the attention of his former teacher.  
  
"Yes, Master Padawan?"  
  
"Let me be the first to apologize for this Council -- and it's blunt decision. Perhaps it was the easy way out. We failed to notice the obvious, what was right in front of us. We were mistaken -- and we apologize, good sir."  
  
Beren stood there, still, staring blankly at him.  
  
Padawan went on. "This Council will dispatch a pair of ambassadors to the planet Iego immediately. We will negotiate peace. And let me be the first to volunteer."  
  
Master Beren hung heavily on his staff. "It could be a dangerous mission, Master Padawan. And you, being the leader of this Order, could be put into many deadly situations. The Angels of Iego are not a very genial bunch."  
  
Padawan shook his head. "I am not afraid, Master. As Grand Jedi, it is my responsibility to lead by example. I will not sit behind these walls and simply move my lips anymore. I am a man of action -- of responsibility."  
  
"Then so be it." Master Beren smiled.  
  
"But I no longer am aided by a Learner. I will need assistance."  
  
Master Beren nodded. "This is no mission for an apprentice. I would be much pleased if you took a Jedi Master with you." Beren turned to face Kane Starkiller, seated on the grass. "Master Starkiller, would you be so kind as to volunteer?"  
  
Kane shot up. "Of course, sir! It would be an honor."  
  
Beren smiled once more as he looked over Garqhuin Padawan and Kane Starkiller -- two men who held the fate of Alderaan in their hands.  
  
The two Jedi, Padawan and Starkiller, exchanged glances for a fleeting moment. That passing second felt long and cold for the two. There was much buried history behind each gaze that would emerge, one day, eventually.  
  
"Master Starkiller," Beren tried to grasp his attention, "I believe there is something else you wish to add to today's agenda."  
  
Kane fluttered. "Huh?"  
  
"The child," Master Beren simply stated.  
  
"Yes, of course," Kane remembered. He spun and immediately began searching the garden for Ze'Losh.  
  
Slowly, Ze'Losh appeared from the opposite side of the hill, cradling the bundle in her loving embrace.  
  
"Master?" Padawan looked up at Beren. "Is this of so great importance?"  
  
"Yes," the ancient Jedi replied.  
  
The Jedi, Jimil, who had been seated, sitting rather quietly, shot to his feet. "Master Beren, this is no time for a prospect hearing and trial."  
  
Beren chose not to look at Jimil. "There will be no need of that now. The child will be taken in by the Order without any test."  
  
Jimil spun to watch Ze'Losh step upon the dais. She handed Master Padawan the bundle and descended.  
  
Jimil shook his head in disbelief. "Without any test? How can this be?"  
  
Master Beren hobbled back atop the dais and faced Garqhuin Padawan, patting his back with both hands. "Feel the Force around him, Garqhuin," the Jedi whispered over Padawan's right shoulder. "It is strong -- overwhelmingly strong." Padawan simply nodded, his mouth hung half open.  
  
Below, Jimil continued his jabber. "But he's only a child! The rules clearly state the prospect must be at least ten years of age before it can be taken in by the Order."  
  
Padawan glanced over at his old Master. "He's right, you know. They do point that out."  
  
Master Beren shook his head. "It is all interpretation, Padawan. This situation is much different -- much more unique. I feel it. I know you do as well."  
  
Padawan nodded. "I do, Master."  
  
Jimil, who stood now very closely to the pedestal, had listened in. "This is ridiculous! He is not of age!"  
  
Kane met the three in the center. "Calm yourself, Master Jimil. Look at the boy -- his species is strange. He may be of age, after all."  
  
"He isn't of age," Master Beren grinned. Kane looked up at the Master in surprise. "The boy is not of age -- I can sense that -- a newborn, I believe."  
  
Jimil hopped in anticipation. "You see! You see! Even Master Bendu Beren admits it!"  
  
"Jimil!" Master Beren frowned. "You have an extremely rigid view. The rule also states we can break it, under special circumstances."  
  
"And there is no special circumstance here, Master Beren," scoffed Jimil.  
  
Beren smiled. "Tell me you cannot feel the good around this boy, Jimil."  
  
"I, he -- ," Jimil struggled for words, frustrated. "I do not agree with this."  
  
Padawan tapped Master Beren's shoulder. "Master, there could be great risk in this. We could always have a family outside the City watch after the boy until he came of age."  
  
Master Beren wouldn't have it. "No, Master Padawan. The only risks present are the two extremes -- the unyielding, like Jimil here, and the ones with knowledge of the Force but whom disregard it." Beren raised his voice. "You will train him, Master Padawan?"  
  
Master Jimil waved his arms in the air. "I will opt for new leadership if Master Padawan takes this child as his apprentice!" A murmur of agreement swept the circle.  
  
"Master Beren," whispered Padawan, "this would create too much controversy -- division -- in the Order. I do not understand why this cannot wait."  
  
Beren looked into his former student's pale green eyes. "I see, Master Padawan, I see." He faced the rest of the Council. "It is clear to me now that we are faced with a twilight -- a sunrise or a sunset -- even I cannot tell. But what is clear, is this: I will take care of the boy for now and will embark upon a last journey -- a journey to unknown land. I will travel to see the Whills and then obtain a last message. A revelation that I hope will one day save you all."  
  
Jimil smirked as he stepped behind Master Padawan, whispering over his left shoulder. "Let the fool go on his errand. He is not the great Master Bendu Beren he once was. Sickness and age has rotted his mind."  
  
Beren continued. "I was told to return one day, to the Whills, for a new hope. I know now that, that day has finally come."  
  
With those final words, Master Bendu Beren took the child from Padawan's arms and left the hill, Ze'Losh following behind him. 


	3. JOURNEY TO IEGO

II. JOURNEY TO IEGO  
  
  
The main hangar seemed to be the dirtiest place in the City. It was a large building roofed by a wide, curving dome, open only from two sides. The dust whipped through here and stained the many, settled starships. Garqhuin Padawan and Kane Starkiller stood silently by their Jedi ship awaiting their companions.  
  
From the twirl of dust in the air emerged two figures -- Ze'Losh Merle and Deak Starkiller. They hurried inside, half jogging. Deak walked up from behind and wiped the dust from his cloak. He winked at his older brother.  
  
Kane looked the younger over, rather annoyed. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Deak grinned impishly. "Master Beren's going to need a top-notch pilot y'know."  
  
"Master Beren can pilot well enough."  
  
"Yeah, but he's going to need a mechanic too," Deak retorted, the trademark grin untiring.  
  
"Are you sure he let you on just like that? You'd slow him down."  
  
"Well, it took a little convincing, but in the end, he agreed." Deak shrugged and winked at Ze'Losh.  
  
"Bah, leave the little one alone!" yelled a brusque voice from inside the dust storm. Master Beren came hobbling forward, through the beach sand at a faster-than-usual pace. He seemed unusually excited by the looks of it. He wore a pair of old-fashioned flight goggles over his eyes and a carrying pack on his back -- the small child asleep with his head propped out.  
  
The Master tightened the hood around his face, smiling broadly. Ze'Losh couldn't help but laugh out loud at the spectacle.  
  
"Bah! What is it, Ze'Losh?" The Master spun.  
  
"Oh, nothing, Master Beren -- it's just." She broke out in laughter once more.  
  
"Do you find my appearance humorous?" Master Beren raised an eyebrow.  
  
The laughter caught hold of everyone then, including the Starkillers, and eventually Master Beren himself. Only Garqhuin Padawan remained stale-faced as the baby, on Beren's back, gurgled on asleep.  
  
"Well then," Master Beren began, "shall we be heading out, Garqhuin?"  
  
"Of course, sir." Padawan signaled the group to move up the ramp. "Everyone onboard and we'll be off."  
  
The City's beach hangar bustled with life as villagers came in and out. The entire spaceport area ran amuck with chatter and a large mass of spectators assembled around the Jedi starship to bid their heroes farewell.  
  
Kane pulled back on the flight controls, launching the ship into midair. The craft rumbled as it shifted to settle into flight position.  
  
Deak pressed against a window. "Who are all they?" he asked, staring out at the crowd.  
  
Master Beren took a seat in the back of the ship and set his goggles atop his forehead, gently laying the child onto his lap. "They are friends who wish us well. Wave back, for we carry their hope and future on our shoulders."  
  
The Jedi starcraft hummed backwards as it's engines churned with power. The dust stirred and suddenly settled as the ship lay motionless in the slight breeze. Gradually, a faint whirl built up within it's metal heart.  
  
Padawan took a seat next to Master Beren, Ze'Losh on the other side. He looked down at the child, a half smile on his wrinkled face. "So Master Beren, what is this child's name?"  
  
Master Beren noticed the slight interest in his former student's voice. "His name, well, perhaps the Whills will help us decipher that riddle, my friend. They know a great many things."  
  
Padawan nodded slightly. "Is this why you insist on going so suddenly? Is this young child the reason?"  
  
"No, my old friend. Though this child will have a great impact on the future, it is not the reason I leave Alderaan."  
  
"Then why, Master? What makes this so urgent?"  
  
"I am dying, Garqhuin, and sometimes I feel the Order is with me. I travel to the Whills now to seek a light -- a light that will heal the Order before it is too late -- something, anything -- to soothe the path it marches upon."  
  
"Have we become so terrible?" Padawan asked, a humbleness in his voice.  
  
"No, Garqhuin. For the most part, I feel the Order will stand for the principles it was founded upon -- peace, justice, and a service to all peoples. However, we are losing our values -- our path is becoming crooked -- lopsided. It is hard to understand -- hard to perceive, I know. All I know is that the Order is changing. And though, in many cases, change is good -- there is no room for change when it comes to the teachings of the Force. If we change the teachings, we bend the truth."   
  
He looked at Padawan, searching his feelings, and sensed a sentiment of understanding.  
  
"Prep yourselves!" Deak yelled back, seated in the co-pilot chair.  
  
The starcraft suddenly dipped and pulled upwards at the same moment, as it began it's hover through the hangar. A sea of villagers scattered underneath, waving and cheering, following the starship towards the exit.  
  
As the engine boiled with anticipation, Kane, in the pilot seat, stroked the throttle. Soon, the fellowship would leave the planet, and its fate lay with those who traveled aboard that very starcraft.  
  
Leaning forward, the Jedi shuttle trickled through the hangar and entered the open air. It slowly ascended higher until it was immersed in the clouds and hovered far above the City of the Jedi. The shuttle sifted through the clouds as Kane managed the passage among the fog and vapors. Sunlight strained through an opening and Kane drove towards it.  
  
Subliminally shifting on a variety of flight controls, Kane focused through the tinted view-screen. With great weight he flung forward on the flight stick and released the carnage burning deep within the belly of the transport. The shuttle rocketed towards the sun as it's passengers hung in turbulent suspense.   
  
The mighty heft of the engine propelled the starcraft out of the atmosphere and into the stars, as it lay in the caress of Alderaan's orbit. The Starkiller brothers immediately threw their hands amongst a muddle of machinery, readying the shuttle for hyperspace.  
  
As they tended to preparations for traveling lightspeed, Master Bendu Beren tilted his head to look out the window, one last time. There, suspended in space, lulled sweet Alderaan. Master Beren gazed upon it with a loving stare. He knew then, that he would no longer see her again -- that peaceful world. No more would he watch her shores or lie in her lap. Now, he would tend to the future and the fate of all living beings in the Galaxy -- one last time.  
  
The hyperspace engine began to rumble and the engine roared. Master Beren shut his eyes and whispered to himself and the child. "And so the Jedi Master embarks on the great quest." He smiled. "One last time."  
  
  
______________________________  
  
  
  
From high above, Iego was a mixture of yellow, blue, and green -- a lovely planet with a dreaded connotation. The many moons poured down their light upon the tiny winding walkways of the capital city and illuminated the outside of the tropical forest that surrounded the group. It was early morning but still late night. The sun would rise in only a few hours.  
  
Ze'Losh hugged the cloak around her shoulders. The tropical appearance of the planet seemed deceiving to her -- as the air was very cold. She glanced about noticing the bending walkway that disappeared into the jungle. What the moonlight could not reveal, the orange lampposts could.  
  
She turned towards the ramp of the shuttle and helped her Master clumsily scamper down. He seemed rather childish since the other day -- in a good way, of course -- more ordinary than most of the other high ranking Jedi. She smiled at him and noted the child, asleep again, clinging to his back.  
  
The whole lightspeed trip, Ze'Losh had watched Master Beren cuddle the child in his furry grasp. He fed the child and pampered him and very silently even sang to him! Master Beren was a loving person -- a being who showed great emotion -- and this was warmly familiar.   
  
She had smiled the whole trip, watching her Master and the child, all the while trying to ignore Deak's sly attempts to snatch her attention. She remembered the same fatherly fondness Master Beren had showed her when she was a young orphan. She realized then, that Master Beren, the child, and her, all shared a common bond.  
  
Born to an interstellar human trader and a dancing Twi'lek, Ze'Losh was abandoned at an early age. It was Master Beren who found her, raised her, and then trained her as his apprentice when she came of age. She saw the same thing happening with this child. But that wasn't the half of it.  
  
Growing up, Ze'Losh always felt different than the others -- she was a rare hybrid species -- and always felt very alone. This child now, now he came from Dagobah -- an uninhabited place -- all alone and with no known species or kin. She was reminded of Master Beren then -- another being of a strange and rare species. Bendu Beren was the last of his kind -- a kind blessed with extremely long lives but burdened with the inability to produce any offspring. His past was a blur to him -- it was so long it seemed that he could not remember even his parents. He knew though, that they died when he was very young.  
  
Ze'Losh understood why her Master had a passion for helping the underprivileged, the orphaned, and the alone. He was a great man -- and, in her eyes, he was always her father.  
  
"You there!" shrieked a fidgeting voice. The group turned to encounter an uncouth fellow, limping around the bend emerging from the jungle. "Ah, hi there!" he reworded.  
  
Master Padawan walked up to the lumbering man. "We're here to see Mistress Invidia of the Angels of Iego."  
  
"Of course, you are," he replied, flashing a fake smile. The man dipped into his pockets and snapped out with a black datapad in his hands. Frantically, he fingered a medley of buttons, searching through his records. In all his excitement, the clumsy host managed to drop his pad -- breaking it in the process. "Oh my. It just slipped out of my fingers."  
  
"I am Garqhuin Padawan." The Jedi bowed.  
  
"Oh, yes!" The man hopped. "Of course! Silly old fool I am. Yes, yes, follow me. The Lady has been expecting you." He motioned for all the Jedi to follow his lead, as he hurriedly strode forward, far ahead of the group.  
  
"He's a rather odd fellow," commented Kane to his brother, as he passed the group up. Deak and Ze'Losh followed, Master Beren and Master Padawan behind the rest.  
  
A slippery wind howled through the dark sky and shook the leaves on the trees. Ze'Losh eyed left and right, constantly, struggling to search the lush heap of forest greenery that prattled with hidden chatter. She marched forward, Deak at her side -- each pair keeping their distance -- Kane and the fumbling host now together, far in front.  
  
Moving closer, Deak whispered to Ze'Losh. "Hey Zay, you cold?" he asked.  
  
"Just a little," she mused, "but I can handle it."  
  
"You sure?" he prodded, a little dismayed.  
  
"I'm sure, Deak."  
  
Deak nudged her. "Something's wrong, huh? What's up?"  
  
"Nothing." She shut him off.  
  
Deak watched her closely then. Her gaze was lowered, as her feet fluttering forward, delicate steps, one by one. Her hands were brought up close, her long fingers scrunched, tightly pressing a tarnished cloak to her long lavender neck.  
  
The young Jedi opened his mouth and shut it, quickly sparing himself a flood of embarrassment. He wouldn't dare a struggle with words that could only result in a slosh of incoherent nothing -- not here -- especially not now -- not again -- not yet, at least. Still, Deak wasn't the kind of roguish soul to back off so easily.  
  
Glancing back, he put on another mischievous grin. "So, Master Beren o'er there seems awfully engrossed with that kid, eh?"  
  
"So?" Ze'Losh fired back, her eyes still watching the trail.  
  
Deak nervously waved a hand through his dirty brown hair. "Uh, I don't know," he struggled, "I just was pointing that out."  
  
"Well, thanks for pointing that out," she stabbed, with little remorse in her voice.  
  
Deak was beat. He slumped his shoulders and slipped out a hushed sigh to himself. Something was up, he just couldn't untangle the mess. Ze'Losh was a good natured, kind, and honest person -- bearer of attributes extremely rare in the Galaxy, even on Alderaan. She was special and in all the years Deak had known her, he could never figure out the best way to tell her that simple truth.  
  
Lagging behind the others, Garqhuin Padawan briefed Master Beren of the mission at hand. Their cloaks hung dragging behind, dancing on the crooked trail.  
  
"There will be a path curving to the right not far from here. Your transport waits for you there."  
  
Master Beren nodded. "Is a garbage transport necessary?"  
  
"It was the only transport we could find traveling the direction you're heading. It's a rather inconspicuous craft. You should have no trouble with the Sith lurching about. The transport is only an extra precaution though, I do not think you will confront the dark ones on your journey."  
  
"I doubt that, Garqhuin. Rather, we will have many encounters with them. That much I know. This smelly spaceship is our only choice I suppose."  
  
"I've assurances that it's unsoiled -- upgraded even -- with stealth features," Padawan added, completely serious.  
  
Master Beren harrumphed. "What kind of garbage carrier, in their right mind, would add stealth features to a rickety-old transport?"  
  
"Oh, we sent along a good sum of Core Region currency. We paid for those features -- and silence."  
  
"Silence?" asked Beren.  
  
Padawan nodded. "Yes. We do not want our garbage carrier spreading rumors, that the Jedi seek his transport." He halted to point out the approaching junction.  
  
The winding trail sprout off into another bend that permeated through the dense tropical forest. High above, the lamppost between the two trails flickered in despair. Deak and Ze'Losh stood together waiting for the Master.  
  
Padawan paused as Master Beren joined hands with Deak and Ze'Losh. "Your transport is waiting for you, Master Beren. We are late, you know," Padawan stated, very bluntly.  
  
"Yes, it is. I see the other Starkiller has passed us up. He is a determined fellow and I admire that in him." He smiled, a glint of joy in his stare. "And we must press on as well. Goodbye, ol' friend. Send Master Kane my farewell."  
  
"I will, my Master," Padawan answered, slightly bowing.  
  
Ze'Losh began tugging at her Master. He spun to acknowledge her. "We're going, my dear." He turned again to face his old student, a final time. "When you meet the Lady, humble yourself and treat her well. Remember, there is no arrogance in the Jedi Order." He shifted on his staff. "And now, we must be off. Goodbye again, Garqhuin, and may the Force be with you."  
  
Padawan nodded. "And you, as well," he replied, slowly nodding again -- this time a gesture of goodbye. He turned and marched away, continuing into the darkness of the shimmering green jungle.  
  
The three Jedi were left standing alone -- a new path in front of them.  
  
The child, in Master Beren's pack, began to squirm restlessly. Ze'Losh slid the baby from his makeshift bungalow, gently hushing him back to slumber.  
  
Master Beren smiled, broadly. "This young one sleeps often."  
  
"Yes, but at least he seldom cries," replied Ze'Losh, soothingly nuzzling the child.  
  
Deak felt the need to add a comment. "Maybe he's dead?" he teased, a silly grin plastered on his face.  
  
Two cold stares drove undeniably in his direction. Bad joke. He shrugged his shoulders. "I was only kidding." He backed off, mumbling, "everyone's so uptight these days."  
  
Master Beren and Ze'Losh subtly smiled at each other as Deak turned his back, heading up the trail. They soon joined him, moving on with their quest.  
  
They arrived at a round concrete clearing that smelled of mist and burnt wood. The soil was shrouded in dense fog and only the top of the large bulking transport could be seen. A collection of muffled lampposts encircled the grounds. Off to the side, a number of dilapidated shanties, strung against one another, plopped in disarray.   
  
Limping from one of the sludgy shacks came a heavyset slob, dragging his feet. "You Jedi there!" he bellowed. "You come for ma' ship?" He peeled an assortment of greased papers from his stubby fingers before tilting his head towards the group.  
  
"That is correct," answered Master Beren, warming his hands in his pockets.  
  
"Huh," the stranger scoffed, with a sneer on his blubbery muzzle. "Well I gots' your monies. Sorry ta' says to ya'," he paused, "but it ain't gunna' be enough."  
  
Master Beren shook his head rather calmly. "I was assured you were paid in full." He smiled. "And at the price you, yourself requested."  
  
"Yea, so?" the garbage carrier bit back. "Well, I change ma' mind. Now pay up or get outta' here." He crossed his arms and stood tall on his feet, attempting to terrify the trio in front of him.  
  
"I'm not the least bit intimidated," Master Beren countered, unmoving from his position.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You agreed to allow us to use your vessel for the amount you had specified. It's too late to bolster your prices now."  
  
The alien transporter guffawed. "Oh-hoh -- tough guy, ey? Talk with Marg, you do! I want more, you give may more. It's only thawt easy. Why you think you can get away without paying what I want now?!"  
  
Master Beren attempted to untwine the puzzle of words floating in the air. "Simply said, it's bad business, my friend."  
  
Clearly annoyed, the hot-headed pilot wrestled into his drooping waist-buckle and avulsed a hanging wrench, tearing the side of his belt. Gracefully, his pants flung off his potbelly and floated to the paved landing pad. He shrieked in maddened embarrassment. "Now you made Marg angry!" He drew the wrench into the air.  
  
With a delicate sway of the hand, Master Beren persuaded him otherwise. The wrench fell to the pavement with a clang.  
  
"You will allow us to use your ship, Marg."  
  
"I will allow us to use your ship, Marg," repeated the transporter, hypnotized, smitten by the Force.  
  
"Thank you, Marg. We are indebted to you for your hospitality." Master Beren smiled. "Goodnight, my friend," he finished, turning to his waiting companions.  
  
"Yes, ma-ah, Jedi. Betted hospital, my. Night good, friend," struggled Marg, as the three Jedi boarded the garbage transport.  
  
They quietly walked up the ramp as Marg stood alone, staring blankly at his pants -- blabbering to himself an unintelligible pile of nonsense. 


End file.
